


Breaking Pointe

by rains_dawn



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Dirty Talk, Eating Disorders, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Praise Kink, Slow Burn, Swan Lake - Freeform, artistic director kakashi, ballerina sakura, black swan vibes, just without the creepy, kakashi is like thomas, sakura is a perfectionist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24886759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rains_dawn/pseuds/rains_dawn
Summary: Perfection. It's what landed her the prestigious honor of becoming prima ballerina for their upcoming season.But her so called version of 'perfection' may not be enough in what will certainly be the most important show of her career. Sakuraisperfect she knows, but can she lose herself? As the company's elusive and mysterious artistic director has so vehemently requested of her.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Hatake Kakashi, Haruno Sakura/Hatake Kakashi
Comments: 21
Kudos: 62





	1. change

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my second multi-chapter fic! 
> 
> I was watching Black Swan and got the idea to do my own little spin on it. I love the idea of Kakashi persuading and maybe even aiding an innocent Sakura in finding her darker side. It'll be a slow burn though—or at least I'm going to _try_ and make it a slow burn.
> 
> I also want to pointe (heh) out that I know basically nothing about ballet. I'm doing my research though, so please be kind if you are, in fact, a ballerina and know that I'm not trying to insult anyone's profession.

She never admits. _Sub_ mits. To any of it. Not the cramps. The blisters. The general pain of it all because she knows that if it doesn’t hurt…

  
  


Well then she’s not doing it right. 

  
  


Her days are basically the same. Get up. Have a light breakfast. Do her stretches and morning routine. Her home workout takes her at least a half hour, which gives her plenty of time to reach midtown and to where she works which is at one of the city’s most prestigious theatre companies—

  
  


As a ballerina. 

  
  


It’s what she’s wanted to be ever since she was a little girl. To be a ballerina _just_ like the ones she would see on stage in her childhood. A childhood filled with dancing and culture and the bright lights of broadway. She wanted nothing more than to be one of those girls. To dress in the most beautiful costumes and transform on stage in front of a sea of people. Those women were Sakura’s heroes growing up—and she wished so much to be like them one day.

  
  


And she’s exactly that now. She _is_ one of those ballerinas that she fawned over for much of her childhood—in one of the most well-known theatre companies in the city, no less. She couldn’t be happier, really. 

  
  


If not for the fact that now her dream is to be the star. The center. _The_ companies’ prima ballerina. She works tirelessly to do so. To achieve that perfection that so many star ballerinas before her exuded. Along with her fellow female soloists.

  
  


She thinks that today may be the day. The day that she finally stars in what will be the theatre’s debut show for that season. She’s worked so hard and pushed her body to unnatural limits to get to where she is. And to fail now…

  
  


Sakura exhales as she steps off from the subway platform—adjusting the earphones that currently play some sort of house music her friend Ino had recommended some time ago. She climbs the stairs, which are filled with the normal amount of morning commuters and she does her best to push past them. 

  
  


She reaches the top and inhales the scent of the city. It’s not a pleasant smell—not necessarily. Not with the smoky, littered with garbage, somehow always _wet_ streets. Again, it’s not pleasant. 

  
  


But it’s familiar. 

  
  


She adjusts the strap of her pack and continues to walk down the street, the flashing lights of her theatre now coming into view. She smiles softly at the sight of the other soloists shuffling to the stage door, counting more of them than normally scheduled. 

  
  


Because today is a _very_ special day. 

  
  


There’s news of a new artistic director, a man so elusive to the theatre community that Sakura doesn’t remember his name. And he’s making an appearance to deliver an important announcement. An announcement she assumes, or at least _hopes,_ will be the play that will debut their season. 

  
  


She shuffles in with the rest of them like a herd of sheep—all hurrying to the dressing room to get ready for their warmups. She pats her pack, feeling her pointe shoes poking out on one side and her multitudes of different colored leotards and outfits on the other. She wonders what it is she’ll decide on that day—because she figures appearance will be everything. She knows she’s got the technique down. That she can nail every move _perfectly._

  
  


She just needs to show this new art director that she can be his new vision. Like all of the prima ballerinas that came before her. 

  
  


She drops her bag onto the counter once she reaches her spot. Plopping down in her seat, she lets out a tired breath and allows herself a moment to relax. Rubbing the sleep and travel from her eyes as she sighs and turns to her pack. She pulls out her makeup bag and a black leotard, along with a skirt and a long sleeve shrug—in case it’s cold in the practice room. 

  
  


Settling into her seat she begins to apply her makeup. Making sure her face is fresh and free of any blemishes because, as she said before—

  
  


Today is an important day. 

* * *

  
  


Sweat marks her chest as she continues through her barre routine. The room is filled with 20 or so of the company’s soloists—male and female. They all continue to work on their warm-ups and she can all but _feel_ everyone’s heightened anxiety for what they know will be going down today. 

  
  


But she continues to focus nonetheless. On her plies, her tendus, degages...until they all became just a blur of motion once more. The piano plays its incessant tune—as it always does. That same bouncy melody and she keeps on beat with every strike of the keys. 

  
  


Madame Tsunade continues to watch them from her place at the center of the room. The older woman looks over to her every once in a while, nodding her head in silent approval for her favorite student. 

  
  


It’s no secret that Sakura is, in fact, her favorite—much to the other dancers dismay. But she tries her best to overlook it. Not let it get to her. The whispering or glaring looks. 

  
  


The Ballet is not a place for...friendship, Sakura realized. It’s a fairly lonely profession and she soon came to grips with the fact that everyone is out for themselves—as it should be, she supposes. Because in the end, she wants the same thing as everyone else. 

  
  


It upsets her only slightly. That she doesn’t have any _real_ friends in this profession. And even worse she doesn’t see her friends _nearly_ as much as she should. And with the added loneliness of the ballet it only worsens what she can only describe as very ‘routine’ days. 

  
  


So she can only hope that this announcement will help make the next few months anything _but_ routine. 

  
  


Her head suddenly snaps up at the sound of a door opening and her gaze focuses on a man. She doesn’t see his face quite yet, but her mood dampens slightly at the full head of silver hair atop his head. He’s dressed smartly, however. Wearing a simple grey button up top and fitted black pants. A cardigan is tied around his shoulders and she watches as he descends the staircase. 

  
  


Madame Tsunade turns and gives him a wide smile—as if she knows him. They embrace in a large hug as he gives her a kiss on the cheek and it’s _then_ that Sakura can get a better look at his face. 

  
  


He’s beautiful, really. Much younger than her initial guess given his full head of silver hair and his look definitely reads ‘artistic director’. 

  
  


Madame Tsunade claps her hands and like a machine she ceases all movement, leaning her hand against the barre as everyone gives her their attention. 

  
  


She smiles and gestures for the man next to her. “This is our new artistic director, Kakashi Hatake.” she says with a wide smile. “He comes all the way from Chicago so let’s show him how New York does ballet better.” 

  
  


Sakura laughs slightly along with the others. Kakashi puts his hands behind his back and takes a few steps forward. “Continue with your warm-ups.” he says in an airy but slightly commanding tone and she immediately raises her arm once more as the music starts as well. 

  
  


He begins to walk slowly down the center aisle—glancing left and right at the female dancers. She notices this immediately and feels heat spark throughout her body in a bundle of nerves. 

  
  


He’s the embodiment of stoicness. His posture is perfect and with his hands behind his back—she knows he means business. So when it comes to be her turn she fixes her gaze forward, noticing how Madame Tsunade joins him. Though she wishes she wouldn’t. 

  
  


She notices out of the corner of her eye how he curls a finger over his lip—focused on her movements. “Isn’t she beautiful?” she hears the Madame speak and she has to fight off the angry stares of the others. 

  
  


“She is.” he agrees with a deep hum.

  
  


He continues to study her carefully as she flows through her slow and fast tendus—making sure her arm and pointe positions are near _perfect._ His eyes are dark and his face unreadable, which makes her heart race in insecurity and she does her best to focus and not crumble under his stare. 

  
  


But it’s not long before he moves on—though not before tapping her shoulder and she almost _shatters_ at the unexpected contact. She of course begins to obsess over what his shoulder tap could mean. And she begins to look around to see if he’s doing it to others—which he is. He’s barely said another word ever since Madame Tsunade introduced him and it makes her nervous as to what type of director he may be. 

  
  


After a few more minutes he circles back to the front of the room and Madame Tsunade claps her hands once more. Kakashi lets out a breath and looks about the group for a few silent moments. 

  
  


“We’ll be opening this season with my rendition of Swan Lake.” he suddenly says and the room immediately bursts into murmurs and excited squeals before he coughs into he shushes the group. He puts his hands behind his back once more as his gaze diverts to the female dancers. “The dancers I tapped are all contenders for the Swan Queen.” he says and Sakura’s eyes widen. 

  
  


If she’s to dance as the Swan Queen…

  
  


“Now—“ he says and her gaze snaps back to his, “an imperative part of playing the Swan Queen is being able to embody both the white and the black.” he says and she nods her head in understanding. He looks at her and she feels her breath still. “And it’s a _hard_ fucking job to do both.” 

  
  


She doesn’t let go of that breath until he turns and makes his way to the stairs. “The soloists I tapped—“ he says as he pauses at the bottom step, “meet in practice room 5 at noon.” 

  
  


The soloists that were tapped all look to one another—her included. She looks next to her to find Karin, the most vain soloist there and Sakura can’t help but return the sneer she’s giving her. She flips her red hair, which she has deliberately left down. Madame Tsunade claps her hands once more and Sakura fixes Kakashi one last glance before he exits through the door he had entered in. 

  
  


A shuddered breath escapes her mouth as she goes through her warm ups once more. Doing her best to calm her stomach which is most certainly in knots now. 

  
  


All she can do now is focus. Focus on what she needs to do to embrace the light and dark. Because as Kakashi said—it’s imperative that they can deliver on both. 


	2. perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura aims to prove herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry this next chapter took almost a month to get out. I’ve been feeling less than confident, especially about this story even though there’s only one chapter. I was able to get over it, obviously, and hopefully I get enough good feedback to keep pushing out chapters! 
> 
> And tysm to those of you who left such kind words on the first installment. I hope you enjoy this second chapter.

The room spins with every twist and turn of her body. Though it’s anything but dizzying. It’s sobering. It’s home. It’s euphoric with every pirouette and every key strike. With every calculated manoeuvre and twist of her arms. Looking about the room and to the other dancers, she knows she’s—

  
  


“Perfect.” she hears him say and a smile erupts across her face when she brings herself to a stop. 

  
  


Sweat lines her body and she places her hands by her sides as she awaits his critique. He’s dressed the same as he had been, though his cardigan is draped over a chair by the mirrors. He has a hand over his mouth like he’s contemplating and she can do nothing else but wait in nervous anticipation. 

  
  


He shrugs and lowers his hand—fists clenching and unclenching, “It’s perfect,” he says once more, “a little _too_ perfect.” 

  
  


She scrunches her brow, “Too—“

  
  


“Your movements are rigid.” he says as he turns from her and glances to the other soloists. They’ve all got this smirk on their faces and she can’t help but scowl in return. He turns and she straightens. “The black swan is perfect in her own way. The two embody a yin and a yang,” he continues as he walks closer to her, “you need to treat your dancing as such.” 

  
  


She gnaws at her fingers as she considers his words. She thinks she can do it. _Lose_ herself in the way he mentioned earlier, but…

  
  


“Do you…” she says softly as he tilts his head down at her, “Do you want me to try again?” 

  
  


He shrugs his shoulders again and puts his hands in his pockets, “Do you _want_ to try again?” 

  
  


Her mouth flaps about helplessly, unable to muster a response due to how shocked she was that he…

  
  


_Didn’t_ like her dancing? He didn’t like her dancing. She was perfect, yes, but…

  
  


“Sakura?” she hears him say once more and the other soloists begin to chuckle softly under their breaths. She tries to fight the tears that pool under her eyelids and she lets out a small huff of frustration. 

  
  


She rolls her shoulders back and steels herself. A decision plays in her mind as she meets Kakashi’s inquisitive stare and does her best to ignore the snickering girls. Their opinions should mean nothing, yet she can’t help the anxiety that pools in her stomach at the realization that she did not, in fact, deliver a ‘perfect’ performance. 

  
  


Another huff escapes her lips as she walks to grab her pack from the ground. She knows she’ll regret her petulant and immature display later but she can hardly find it in herself to care. She doesn’t even give herself the decency of saying so long to the rest of the soloists or Kakashi as she pushes the door to the studio open—

  
  


Bounding down the hall with stomping feet and bitterness in her mind.

  
  


* * *

  
  


_She dreams of a lake._

  
  


_White feathers liken her body as she drifts along the waters. She’s the most beautiful of the swans who have been bestowed the same curse—a curse in it of itself. There’s a princess inside, she knows. A princess who longs for love to break her of this. To free her. To cherish her for all eternity._

  
  


_She dreams of Prince Seigfried._

  
  


_Of his golden hair—at least, that’s how she imagines it. Of transforming before him into the most beautiful woman he has ever laid his eyes on. What with her rose colored hair and matching lips. Lounging on the rocks as if she were a siren—calling to him to profess his love._

  
  


_She dreams of being Odile._

  
  


_A seductress of her own. Bewitching and charming and alluring in her own way. She longs to be like Odile, she thinks. Longs to be wanted by everyone. To be seen as perfect in a different way that she has yet to realize._

  
  


_She dreams of all these things. Of a mystifying lake. A beautiful prince and princess. And a charming seductress._

  
  


_She dreams of perfection._

* * *

  
  


All night. She spent all _goddamn_ night working and perfecting that dance. Doing everything in her power to convince herself that she can and she _will_ dance as the Swan Queen. No matter the stakes. If it _kills_ her. 

  
  


She feels like it could. Kill her. What with the stinging in her feet and aches in her muscles. But she presses on nonetheless. Because it’s her _job._ Because in this industry, the saying is, indeed, true—

  
  


That beauty is pain. 

  
  


All night she spent perfecting the art of ‘losing’ herself. And she felt it. She really had. Felt her body grow more loose with every turn of her body. Allowing herself to _feel_ just what her body was capable of...when she allows it to. 

  
  


It’s how she’s found herself dressed in a pretty blush colored cardigan and tight fitted black leggings. With her hair loose and let down—a welcome change from her tight bun she normally sports. Now on her way to Kakashi’s office with a touch of rouge on her lips and cheeks. She can’t help herself. Not when she knows her whole career is at stake. And knowing that when it comes down to it—

  
  


Kakashi is a man. Just like any other. 

  
  


So she doesn’t stop as she continues to stalk down the hall. Doesn’t stop as she finds herself in front of his door. Refrains from looking left and right to avoid the glares of the other dancers currently stretching on the floor. A nervous breath leaves her lips as she lifts her hand to knock softly. 

  
  


An audible _come in_ is heard from the other side and she steels herself before opening the door. Her eyes immediately land on his standing form—a book in his hand and he looks up to meet her timid gaze. His brows raise in a look of surprise. “Sakura.” 

  
  


She folds her hands in front of her and bites her lower lip—a move he does not miss. “I came to say that...I practiced last night. The black swan dance.”

  
  


He looks at her in a strange way before snapping his book closed. “But—”

  
  


“I just,” she interrupts and takes a deep breath while looking down towards the ground. Though not without noticing how he sits against the back of his desk, “I think I can do it.” 

  
  


“Think you can do what?”

  
  


She looks up and watches as he shakes his head, not catching her meaning. “The dance. To show you..” she clarifies and he shakes his head again. 

  
  


“Sakura, I already chose Ka—“

  
  


The realization that he was about to say Karin’s name causes bile to rise in her throat and she can’t help the, “ _No!”_ that escapes her lips. She knows she sounds like a petulant child but she can’t under any circumstances allow _Karin_ to hoard her spotlight and win. She just can’t. 

  
  


“Sakura—“ 

  
  


He stands and something in her causes her to surge forward. She places herself right at his front and looks up at him with her big and innocent eyes. Though she can tell by the shocked yet _dark_ look in his that he finds it anything but innocent. It’s commanding. It’s captivating. It’s all consuming in its delivery and she _relishes_ in her efforts. He doesn’t do anything. Just continues to stand and wait for whatever it is she plans to do. Her head is at an incline and if she focuses hard enough she thinks she can feel his breath ghost her lips. 

  
  


She doesn’t know what possessed her to do this. But she gulps down a nervous breath and steels herself before looking into his black eyes. 

  
  


“Meet me in studio 2B—at 6. When practice is done for the day.” 

  
  


She steps away and watches closely as he pauses. His hands had been curled around the edge of the desk but he moves them to cross his arms instead. There’s a small, almost unnoticeable smirk on his face but she can tell he’s amused in his own way. She’s unsure if she should wait but she does anyway as he seems to be considering. His tongue swipes his bottom lip and she watches as he pushes off from the desk. 

  
  


“Alright.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


She has been staring at her reflection for a good half hour. Her skin is now dry and her hair is let down in a smooth cascade of waves as she awaits Kakashi’s arrival. She has no idea what has gotten into her. What has _possessed_ her to be so forward with him in his office earlier. She was not the meek and unprovocative girl she knew so well. Something has taken over her. In the presence of him. 

  
  


And she’s curious as hell to find out what exactly that is. 

  
  


Her eyes snap to the door when she hears it open. And in comes Kakashi with a rather tired look on his face. The look makes hers fall somewhat—but when his eyes land on hers the frustration melts away and is replaced by…

  
  


Curiosity. 

  
  


He puts his hands in his pockets and walks further into the room. “Been practicing?” 

  
  


She bites her lower lip and glances down towards her feet. “Actually…” she starts and listens as he drags a chair out from the wall, “I figured it’d be best if I didn’t.” 

  
  


She looks up to find that his face has changed to a more pleased expression. She lets out a small breath of relief and walks to the center of the room. Noticing the way her hips sway is foreign to her and adds a dark sort of shiver down her spine as she readies her body. 

  
  


He turns the chair so that the back is facing her and she watches as he sits himself down—legs splayed on either side. He crosses his arms along the top and for a moment her eyes become focused on the slight bulge of his arms as they flex against his shirt. 

  
  


“Go on, then.” he encourages and she nods her head as she takes her stance. “Whenever you’re ready.” 

  
  


There’s something about him that she hasn’t quite figured out yet. Something about the way his presence, and his presence alone (without the company of others), loosens her entire body. She can feel it in the way she begins her movements. How her body is carried rather than yanked. How her leaps are natural rather than mechanical. She feels it in how her hair brushes against her shoulder and is carried by the air she leaves behind with every twirl and every leap. How her mouth hums at the soothing motion of her body being dragged by the imaginary tune playing in her mind. 

  
  


Her eyes open just the slightest to find him still seated. Though one of his hands has moved to his mouth and his eyes are focused on her body in a look of sheer concentration. They’re dark— _impossibly_ dark and she can’t help but let it drag her deeper into what she has conjured up in her mind. 

  
  


It’s the dance at the ball. When Odile is meant to seduce Prince Seigfried and she can all but _feel_ the seduction as Kakashi continues to watch her closely. He knows the dance of course, and she’s left to wonder if he’s suspicious of her choice. She’s not even aware she’s dancing that particular part—but that unfamiliar charisma and confidence overcomes her the moment he stepped through the door. And she can see now in the pleased expression on his face that she made the right choice. 

  
  


She hears the imaginary piano end in her mind and she ceases all movements. Her eyes dart to his and he’s expressionless. Motionless. Hand still over his mouth but he moves it away to say—

  
  


“Where was this yesterday?” 

  
  


She’s still breathing heavily. Still trying to catch her breath and recover from that display which was in all honesty _nothing_ like what she had practiced the night before. 

  
  


Something... something _inside_ her caused that display. Caused her to rid herself of all inhibitions and weaknesses she felt in herself and…

  
  


And perform something like she just had. 

  
  


He’s waiting for her to answer—still seated with his arms extended forward atop the back of the chair. And all she can seem to do is shrug her shoulders and let out a faint laugh. 

  
  


“I’m…” she breathes, “not quite certain.” 

  
  


“It’s not the dance we practiced yesterday. Or that you practiced last night.” 

  
  


She scrunches her brow and tilts her head. “No.” she says softly. “No it wasn’t. I’m sorr—“ 

  
  


“It was great.” he interrupts and she tries her hardest not to cross her legs and smile sheepishly. “It was,” he pauses and lets out a laugh before standing up from the chair, “dare I say...perfect.” 

  
  


“Perfectly...imperfect.” Sakura says and Kakashi laughs. 

  
  


He nods his head in agreement. “You’re getting it.” 

  
  


She can’t help the smile that erupts across her lips, though she tries to contain it. She watches as he drags the chair back to the wall. Turning to her, he still has that same quizzical look on his face and she can’t help but ask—

  
  


“Did I get it?” 

  
  


Kakashi places his hand over his mouth and rubs it a few times in thought. She can’t help the anxiety running rampant through her body. The goosebumps that prickle at her skin. He looks uncertain. _Guilty_ even. Based on the decision he had made earlier when she was in his office. 

  
  


He begins to walk out of the room and she feels herself reach out. He extends a hand, as if to silence her. “I have some thinking to do.” is all he says before walking out of the studio. 

  
  


She hears the door close and a hand immediately flies to her mouth. Tears stream down her face though she’s unsure if they’re of happiness or exhaustion. 

  
  


She allows herself a few moments to collect herself before grabbing her pack to exit the studio. She slings it over her shoulder and closes the door, letting out a heavy breath as she does so. The lights in the hall have already been dimmed and she knows the building is practically empty now. All she can do is focus on her footfalls as she ascends the hall—intent on getting home and crashing into bed for some much needed rest. 

* * *

  
  
  


The soloists are all hoarded together like a herd of cows as they gather around a wall. 

  
  


She can see as she bounds down the hall that a paper has been posted and she hears a few disappointed sighs and excited shrills. She takes out her earbuds—pounding music from her morning commute and stuffs them in her pocket. 

  
  


A few girls stray from the group and their eyes light up when they see her. One girl, Jin, walks up to her and gives her a strong hug—whispering a _congratulations_ in her ear. It’s then that she feels the hairs on her arms stand on end and her stomach churn in excitement. 

  
  


She approaches the group and they part like the Red Sea when they see her. Squeals and words of congratulations ring in her ears as her eyes settle on the paper pinned to the wall. 

  
  


**Sakura Haruno—Swan Queen**

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t forget to leave a comment, pretty please!


End file.
